


A Fumble

by morvish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morvish/pseuds/morvish
Summary: I made a fumbling play for your heart, and the act struck a spark.





	A Fumble

“Lance…”

Lance rolled over to see Keith’s sleepy face just inches from his own. One hand was tucked under his cheek, and the other gently curled between Keith’s chest and Lance’s own.

Lance propped himself up on his pillow.

“Yeah?” he whispered, though he needn’t have. It was only the two of them in the room.

They had been forced to share a bed for the mission; small planet under siege meant few resources and fewer mattresses. It was either share a small comfy bed, or argue endlessly about who has to sleep on the stone floor every night. It wasn’t a problem; not anymore, maybe a few months ago there would have been problems – ok, there would have been major problems – but now they were cool. More than cool.

Lance was kind of Keith’s right hand man. But not in a way that meant Keith was in charge.

Well – he was in charge, but you know. Not _in charge_ in charge. They were still the same Keith and Lance. Just better. Improved.

He smiled at Keith’s soft features. It was a sight Lance had gotten very used to over the past few days; feeling Keith’s warmth next to him, curled towards him in the night. Solid and reassuring. Lance wasn’t sleepy in the least – the day had been long and stressful, but the adrenaline was taking a long time to wear down. They only had a day or two more of holding out they could take some real time off. He couldn’t wait to get back in his own bed.

But then, the thought of being without Keith’s comfortable presence as he drifted off to sleep suddenly occurred to him in an unhappy burst. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Something to worry about later, when the time came.

“I’m scared,” Keith said.

That was the last thing Lance expected Keith to say. The siege had been holding up pretty solidly, and - well, it was rare for Keith to admit to being scared.

“We only have a couple more days,” he said. “Then the siege will be over. The others will come along and we can form Voltron, and it’ll be over in a few ticks. Don’t – Quiznak, don’t be scared, Keith.”

Keith curled up slightly.

“I don’t know why, I just have a bad feeling about this mission.”

Lance’s hand hovered over to Keith, unsure how to comfort him.

“It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’re good at this.”

Keith nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We are.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

Lance shifted forward and brought an arm around Keith’s shoulder, tucking the other one by Keith’s head. Even in his sleepy state, Keith jerked back, startled.

“I’m just trying to give you a reassuring hug, dude,” Lance snorted.

“Oh,” breathed Keith. “Oh, right.”

He settled back into Lance’s hug. Lance squeezed, and Keith gingerly put out his own arms, one under Lance’s torso, and the other over his waist. They fit together, legs just touching.

Keith shuddered a sigh, and Lance rubbed his back, tightening his grip.

Lance found he didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to. They had to sleep eventually. He pulled back, and smiled.

Keith smiled dozily back.

“I could kiss you, Lance.”

Lance snorted. “Was it my amazing flying today? Saved your bacon once again, I know. You don’t need to go that far to thank me though.”

Keith continued to stare at him sleepily, a notch between his eyebrows appearing. Somewhere between confusion and annoyance.

“What?” Lance breathed.

Keith huffed, and shifted his head back.

“Your flying was good, but that’s not...” Keith’s own voice dropped to a whisper. “Lance,” he said, and some of the strings in his voice broke as he did. Lance raised an eyebrow. Keith sighed again and threw an arm over his eyes. “What have I done?” he moaned.

Lance felt any words he had inside of him choke at the throat.

“What?” Lance whispered, even quieter than before.

Keith peeked an eye out from under his forearm.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.

Lance blinked. He flopped backwards against his pillow.

They lay in silence.

“I,” said Lance. Then he stopped. He usually had a good grasp of what was going on, and he thought he was pretty perceptive when it came to other people, especially friends. Good friends. Very good friends. But maybe he didn’t know Keith as well as he thought.

He snuck a glance over at Keith, whose breathing had slowed down once again. _Has he fallen asleep again?_

Maybe he knew Keith too well, just so well he’d somehow missed this. Or maybe Keith was having a dream, or a nightmare. No – it had to be a dream. Nobody would have nightmares about kissing Lance.

Except Lance himself actually. That one time in a dream when he entered a parallel universe and met himself, but the worst version of himself. Someone who drank black bitter coffee and read the daily newspapers. He didn’t have to kiss himself though, so that was a relief.

He turned over to face Keith. Something in Keith’s throat hitched, and Lance prodded him.

“I can see you’re awake, Keith,” he said, making a decision to get to the bottom of this. He wanted some sleep, and there was no way he would get it now.

Keith dragged his hand down his face.

“Let me start again,” he said. Then he yawned, passing it on to Lance.

There was another long pause while Lance glared Keith down, and Keith glared the ceiling down.

“You,” began Keith. He took a deep breath. “I mean, I-” He furrowed his brow. “You and me. I don’t…”

Lance felt his heart begin to clench.

“Stop,” he whispered.

Keith stopped mouthing unspoken words immediately. He crossed his hands over his stomach, and stared at the ceiling placidly.

“I ruined it,” he said.

“No, you didn’t,” Lance said immediately, though he wasn’t sure what he meant. He wasn’t sure he was grasping the situation.

Keith turned over, away from Lance.

“Yes, I did,” he said, and Lance could hear the frown on his face. It was unsettling. His words were slightly muffled from the distance, and his body was curled away from Lance. “I’m going to sleep now. We’ve got a long few days ahead of us. I know you haven’t had much sleep the last few nights, so-”

“Say it again,” Lance said, the words coming out of him without warning.

Keith shifted uncomfortably.

“No Lance,” he said. “Goodnight.”

Lance pressed a hand against Keith’s shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his T-shirt. He pulled gently and Keith rolled over.

“Say it again,” he said.

Keith refused to look at him.

“I want,” he said, his voice breathy and sad, “to kiss you.”

Lance still had his hand on Keith’s shoulder. He felt as though his entire body was burning up, starting from that point, but he didn’t want to let go.

He breathed thinly. “Why?” he asked.

Keith let loose a short chuckle, his breath catching. His eyes were nearly closed again.

“I would walk a mile for you, Lance,” he said.

“That’s,” Lance whispered. “That’s not very far, you know.”

“In space,” Keith whispered back.

Lance thought about it. “I still don’t think that’s very far.”

“It’s harder though.”

Lance realised his hand on Keith’s shoulder had tightened. He released it immediately, pulling back, feeling a cold rush of air run through him.

Keith seemed to draw closer to him in response though, rolling over to face Lance, as though the loss of a physical connection had also bothered him. He looked down at where Lance’s hand had been, and then back at Lance with an unreadable expression.

Lance stared back.

“I would…I would walk a mile in space for you too, Keith.”

Colour appeared on Keith’s cheeks.

“I guess we only have to walk half a mile each then.”

They smiled at each other, then Keith began to fidget in place, looking uncomfortable.

He gave an embarrassed kind of nod, and said, “Well, goodnight, Lance. See you in the morning I guess.”

He began to turn over when something pulsed through Lance. Watching Keith turn away from him; that warm lump he was so used to sleeping next to now, pulling away from him. Keith, his leader, his friend, his rival. If Lance was his right-hand man, then Keith was his left-hand man, and Lance could feel something race through him at the thought of Keith being his anything.

“You should do it then,” he said, frozen by his own words.

Keith paused midway through turning over, and looked over his shoulder at Lance’s earnest face.

“What?” he whispered.

“You should,” Lance’s mouth was suddenly very dry, “kiss me, then. If that’s – what you want to do.”

Keith was also frozen. They both stared at each other from opposite sides of the small bed.

The blanket was too hot, the bedsheet was too scratchy. Lance could hear people downstairs moving about, soft night time chatter from elsewhere as the lookouts kept watch. Strange nocturnal alien birds whittering further afield. A light rain patter against the window. Keith’s wide eyes watching him intensely.

And then in one moment to the next, Keith surged forward, his arms finding Lance first, then his lips. And Lance was kissing Keith, or Keith was kissing Lance. It was chaste at first, but as Keith’s hands found Lance’s hair, and Lance gripped Keith’s waist, it deepened. There was clacking of teeth as their desperation reached a pitch, but they soon found a rhythm. Lance’s heart was beating a mile a minute, and he could feel Keith’s doing the same.

He could hear Keith making soft little noises, and he realised he was doing the same.

“Keith,” he breathed into the kiss.

Keith moved his lips to Lance’s neck, soft and sleepy.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“When did this happen?”

Keith stopped.

“Uh, just now,” he said.

Lance rolled his eyes. “No, I mean – this,” he gestured between them. He felt the rush of tingling emotion that was still swirling through him, and Keith’s flushed face and sparkling eyes told him he could feel the same thing.

“Oh,” said Keith. He looked down in embarrassment. “When … you came into my room, that one night. The night Shiro came back. And you were worried about your role in Voltron. And the idea of you leaving … it – I think it made me realise I really didn’t want you to leave. For more than just Voltron reasons.”

Lance stared. “But that was months ago.”

“Yes,” said Keith, sighing. “Yes, it was.”

“I can’t believe you figured it out way before I did,” Lance said, nonplussed. “I always thought I was the emotionally insightful one.”

“Lots of surprises tonight.”

Lance laughed, raising a hand to his face. He pressed a hand to his eye, suddenly feeling the full weight of his tiredness. It was late. He said so to Keith. Keith nodded in agreement.

“We should sleep,” he said, his voice had taken on its leadership-tone, but his arms were still wrapped around Lance, his legs twisted with Lance’s.

“Yeah,” said Lance. “We should.”

“Goodnight, Lance,” said Keith, tucking his head under Lance’s chin.

“Night, Keith,” said Lance, pulling in tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> The title/summary is from Simple Song by the Shins which i have been listening to on repeat for a while now and i like it as keith's pov about lance. I watched s3 and I had to write something. So take this, it's far too late for me to be awake righ tnow. Thank you for reading!
> 
> i'm kind of tempted to expand it and make the scenario a longer oneshot/fic since i enjoyed the overall story concept, but we'll see jfdsklsfj


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